


A Model Patient

by EventHorizon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Comfort, M/M, Sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:38:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/pseuds/EventHorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes is sick with a very bad cold, however, a man of his poise and control is a blessedly perfect patient.  In his own opinion, of course...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Model Patient

      “Mycroft?  Love, are you feeling better?”

      “no’mnt”

      “No you’re not?”

The head under the covers seemed to be moving up and down so Lestrade took that as agreement.

      “Let me check your forehead.”

This shake was back and forth.

      “Don’t be stubborn.  Just let me feel your forehead.  I’ll even use my lips like my mum used to do to see if you’ve got a fever.”

A little hesitation, then a forceful back and forth.

      “Please?”

Back. Wait. Forth. Wait. Like a bloody turn indicator.  Wonderful.  Someone was feeling childish.

      “Cheek, then.  Just push the covers back a little and give me a patch of skin.”

Not back and forth again.  Was the man trying to give himself a concussion?

      “Mycroft, stop being a baby and just let me have a feel.  And I promise not to feel anything that’s not ready and willing for a spot of afternoon entertainment.”

A phlegmy noise erupted from under the blanket fort that greatly resembled a very poor attempt at blowing a raspberry.

      “Sounds like you need the stuff John dropped by for congestion.  I’ll get a spoon and…”

      “no’s’iky”

      “You’ve got to be kidding.”

      “’iky.”

      “You won’t take your medicine because it’s icky?”

Up and down.  Christ almighty… one nappy short of an infant.

      “You’ve got to watch out that this cold of yours doesn’t move into your lungs and _John_ even said that so I’m not talking out of my arse.  Now, I’m going to get you a spoon…”

      “Il’spt’it’bk”

      “You most certainly will _not_ spit it back!”

      “mstcrtnlywll”

      “Not on those sheets you won’t!  Bad enough you make me bring them down to the laundry right after we’ve had a night of messy fun, but I’m _not_ going to strip the bed because you’ve sprayed cold medicine all over the place.  Now be a good boy, take your medicine and I’ll give you a treat afterwards to take the taste away.”

      “kepyrpnistoyr’slf”

      “I _will_ keep my penis to myself, thank you very much.  What cheek.  Oh wait, you’re refusing to give me cheek, so pardon me for that.  If I give you some cold tablets, will you at least take those?”

Such fun counting the seconds…

      “Mbe.”

      “You gave that more thought than starting a war in Bolivia and all I get is maybe?”

      A shrug.  Finally, some variety.  Lestrade wasn’t sure he could stand the excitement.

      “Then I’ll take my chances.  Couple of cold pills coming up with a nice glass of water…”

      “gin”

      “What?  Are you certifiable?  You’ll get a nice glass of water.  I mean… you don’t even drink gin!”

      “gin”

      “Saying it twice doesn’t make me listen harder.”

      mumywdgivmegin”

      “Your Mum gave you gin when you were sick?”

Up and down.  Beautiful.

      “So you’ll drink gin which won’t do anything but get you pissed, and doesn’t taste that nice itself, but you won’t touch the prescription cold and cough stuff John said would help you breathe _and_ sleep so you’ll feel better.”

Up and down. 

      “You realize you’re loony, right?  Gone right off your head.”

A shrug and a pitiful attempt to kick Lestrade in the knee.  If Mycroft’s leg hadn’t been weighed down by twenty blankets it might actually have ranked all the way up there at pathetic level on the ferocity scale.

      “Well, since I’m in charge, I’m going to lay down the law as I see fit.”

Lestrade ignored the strangled squawk and continued on.

      “You’re not getting any gin because I’m not dealing with you being both sick _and_ drunk.  And I’ve revoked your right to cold pills for being a testy bastard and you’re getting John’s evil elixir, instead.  Great big spoonful right down the throat.  If you don’t do anything else to warrant being taken over my knee, then you can have a good hot cup of herbal tea.  I’ll even serve it my big mug with the Dark Side of the Moon logo on it because I know how much you like it.”

      “dplrble”

      “I guess deplorable’s been made a synonym for majestic; learn something new every day.  And, it’ll keep your tea hot for longer than those dainty cups you’ve got in that nice case in the dining room.”

      “antqryldtnblngmdfrvictria…”

      “Oh stop, I’ve got no idea what you’re going on about.  So, just lay there… sorry, _keep_ laying there… and I’ll be back in a bit.”

One long sting of consonants and a few feeble poundings of a pillow provided accompaniment as Lestrade left the room to continue playing nursemaid to the very worst patient in the entire world.

__________

      “Oh good, you’re still here.”

The sharp upward push of the blanket mountain spoke of a very rude gesture at its base and wasn’t that a fine thing for such a posh gentleman.

      Now, I’ve got to open up your grave, you zombie, so try not to let the sun turn you to ash.”

      “thtsvmprs”

      “Vampires, you say?  Suppose you’re right.  And they’re refined bloodsuckers in bespoke clothes, aren’t they?  Well, that’s a _much_ better fit for you.”

That rude noise was getting phlegmier, which actually worried Lestrade that he’d let Mycroft go too long without pharmaceutical help.

      “Come on, Count Mycroftula.  Sit up for me and… is that wormy-wiggle you’re doing supposed to be helping you sit up?”

      “brstd”

      “Here, let me give you a hand.”

Lestrade held up the covers so that the mole could tunnel out from under the earth and bit back the very large laugh that wanted to break free seeing the very tousled and _very_ cold-infected head of the great and powerful Mycroft Holmes cautiously peer out from its burrow.

      “There’s the man I married.  Or a reasonable facsimile.  Now prop up… here, I’ll grab you under the shoulders… ok, lean forward and I’ll put another pillow behind your back… there.  Doesn’t that feel better?”

      “No.”

      “That’s the spirit!  Having a joke with me when you’re feeling a bit dodgy.  So, medicine first, then tea.  And see?  Placed a saucer over the top of the mug so your tea is going to be good and hot.  Nice for breaking up that mucus and making you feel toasty from the inside out.  Not that you should really need it with the layer of insulation you’ve got on top of you.”

      “Caught a chill”

      “More like you got hit with a freeze ray, by the looks of it.  Never mind, though, just hold on… there.  One nice spoon of… what are you doing?”

      “Bricading”

      “Barricading?  You unclench your jaw this instant you toddler!”

      “No.”

      “Mycroft, you’re sounding worse and you haven’t slept.  Please just take your medicine.  For me, if for no other reason.”

      “You frst.”

      “What?”

      “You hrd me.”

      “Well, not really what with you making every word scream for mercy as you shove it out between your teeth.  And what I think I heard is absurd so…”

      “You frst.”

      “Ok, so I’m not going deaf.  You want _me_ to take your medication.”

      “Yes.”

      “Really, are you actually only four years old?  Did someone do one of those body-swap things like in the films?  Some little tyke’s running around right now desperately trying to find a watch chain and umbrella?”

      “Well?”

      “Oh my god… if I’d have known you were this much of a bother I’d have signed a fake name at the register office!  Alright, see?  Down she goes… bollocks!  That _is_ disgusting.”

      “See?”

      “Well… oh god, hold on a moment while I wash that down… ok, I see what you mean, but you’re still having it.  Now open up and I’ll even do the airplane maneuver with the spoon… good boy, here comes the plane in for a landing.  Now swallow.  _Swallow_.  You really want that just sitting on your tongue where your tastebuds can keep bathing in the nasty?  There you go.  Here, big sip of tea will wash that right down.  And… good.  You should start to feel better soon and, to celebrate, I brought the sugariest biscuits we had so you might actually be able to taste them.”

      “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.  Gotta get something in you to keep up your strength.  Later on, after a good nap, we’ll see about putting a little real food in your stomach.  Maybe I’ll pick up some take-away when I go out for more tissues and some lotion for your nose.  It’s starting to look a little rough.”

      “Excellent.”

      “Don’t worry, it’s still kissable…. yep.  Very kissable.  And definitely a little warm.  I’ll add something to bring your fever down to my list.  There wasn’t anything worthwhile in the house when I checked.”

      “Rarely sick.”

What a perfectly perfect pout.  Mycroft Holmes truly was the picture of a sick and frustrated toddler who was only going to be happy when he was asleep.  Which, with a little codeine in his system, warm and soothing herbal tea and something to keep his stomach quiet, should occur quickly.

      “I understand but you need it now and I’ll take care of things as soon as you finish your tea.  Here, I have an idea.”

Lestrade reached over to the nightstand and picked up the remote, using it to start their sound system and setting it to play a relaxing classical piece that was very much Mycroft’s taste.

      “Some music to have tea by.”

      “It’s lovely.”

      “Thought you’d like it.  Only a few more days of this, love.  John says it’s a miserable strain going around right now, but it shouldn’t have you down for more than a few more days, so try to think positively.”

      “Positive I’m dying.”

      “Ok, we’ll work on being positive.  It’s not like we won’t have the time.”

__________

      “Gregory, my dear?  Are you feeling better?”

      “fkoffgoway”

      “I’m afraid I must decline to follow that course of action.  How are you feeling?”

      “hrbl”

      “Horrible… a condition I remember well.  I had hoped your robust constitution would spare you the ravages of infection, but I see my hopes were in vain.”

      “yrflt”

      “I shall gladly assume my share of responsibility for your illness, but I do not believe the fault was mine that you decided to kiss me on my nose while I was in the grip of this bitter plague.”

      “stlyrflt”

      “You are most welcome to still consider this my fault, just as you are most welcome to your opinion about my having brought to you your medicine.  Wasn’t it helpful that not all of this very special potion was required for my own recovery?  Now, kindly open your mouth…”

Oh dear, he was shaking his head.  And… yes, imitating a man suffering lockjaw.  And crossing his arms to complete his surly and stubborn attitude.  Such childish behavior.  Gregory sincerely needed to consider emulating his own example when taken by illness.  After all, a Holmes was always a model patient.


End file.
